


I've got a ticket for a world where we belong

by janie_tangerine



Series: charity commissions 2018 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Anniversary, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Bar Room Brawl, Fix-It, Humor, IN SPACE!, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Rocket Is Also One, Thor Is a Good Bro, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:03:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which Steve and Bucky have seventy years' worth of anniversaries to celebrate and their friends take the occasion very, very seriously.Or: Steve and Bucky take a trip through the galaxy post-IW. It'seventful.





	I've got a ticket for a world where we belong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarah1281](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah1281/gifts).



> SO, still the same backstory as the previous fic: the nonprofit I worked for last year teaching Italian as a second language to immigrants/refugees is in need of money to renovate their locals and since I'm currently not making extra money I couldn't give them all the money I wanted to. So I took commissions on tumblr as in, I'd write fics for anyone who donated at least a minimum money to the nonprofit in question, so I'm working on the aforementioned commissions throughout this month/the next one..
> 
> This one was the second for the lovely sarah1281 who wanted _Steve/Bucky were together pre-war and now are together again in the present. This is either their first anniversary or their 75th._ I watched IW before starting to work on it and THIS THING HAPPENED IDEK I hope it's to your liking. ;)
> 
> Obviously: **spoilers for IW. ALL OF IT**. I warned you. Nothing belongs to me, the title is from Savage Garden because I'm that old and that much of a sap. ~~Anticipated apologies for a horrid 80s trash movie reference in the dialogue somewhere in the last third of this fic but at least I think only italian readers will get what I was doing~~.
> 
> *saunters back downwards*

 

_July 4th, 1944_

 

“You know, I’d have thought you might’ve wanted to celebrate your birthday properly, _for once._ ”

Steve laughs, figuring that Bucky _does_ have a point. They’re on leave, they’re in London, the others wanted to go out for drinks and he could have, but - he said he was tired and he let them go on their own. He had figured Bucky would go as well, and instead he’s just shown up next to him, handing him a bottle of what looks like premium Irish beer — not that it’ll get Steve even buzzed, they learned it won’t, but he still does like the taste and Bucky _did_ notice.

Steve reaches over and takes it, popping the cap with his bare hands.

“Jesus,” Bucky says, “I still don’t know if that’s creepy or awesome.”

“Can’t it be both?” Steve grins.

“Whatever, _Cap_ , open mine, too, since you’re here.”

“Fair enough, you _did_ go through the trouble of finding it.”

“Sure as hell it was less trouble than it was during fucking Prohibition, from what I remember,” Bucky says under his breath as Steve hands him his newly opened bottle. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Yeah, and that doesn’t change the part where it’s _your birthday_ and you’re stuck in a hotel room. Which admittedly is bigger than our damned place in Brooklyn on its own, and the water pressure is certainly _better_ , but still, really?”

Fair point, Steve has to concede him. “Well, _yes_ ,” he admits, “but — fuck, this is going to sound ridiculous.”

“I’ve been hearing your ridiculousness since we were kids, Steve. Just say it.”

He shrugs. “It’s just, we’re on leave for that, but it’s the first time since - since I _joined the Army_ ,” Steve says, before taking a sip of his beer. It’s good, nothing to add. “In between the damned war bonds tour, Azzano and finding you and so on, I — I’ve never had a chance to just, spend three days doing nothing, you know. We have another five days, I think I can go get drinks another time.”

Bucky stares at him, his mouth wrapped around the bottle’s top as he drinks, more than Steve did. His lips are glistening when he drags it down and Steve has to look to his left as he licks them clean - it’s too much for now, he thinks. Too fucking much. And he doesn’t want to —

He’s not.

“Fair, but it’s — you shouldn’t waste your birthday in _here_. You’ve been here for the whole fucking day, no one knows who you are here, it’s just sad that you’d waste it holed in here. And it’s your _twenty-fifth_ , live a little. I spent mine shooting at people, it wasn’t that great.”

“I’m — sorry,” Steve tells him, sincerely, because he means it -

“No need to be, and if you hadn’t been your usual reckless self I wouldn’t even be alive, probably. But honest, I’m not sayin’ we should go find the others now, but — let’s just go to some museum tomorrow or _somethin’_. We’re in Europe, you like art, there’s gotta be something you wanna see.”

Steve laughs, because he _has_ to, hearing how earnest Bucky is. “Buck, not that I don’t appreciate it, but all the museums sent their collections to the countryside. They bombed this place to Hell and back, at most you can bring me to church.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and takes another drink. “Well, fine enough, if that’ll get you out of this damned room I _will_ drag you to morning mass.”

Thing is — he’s _serious_ , deadly so, and —

“Wait, for real?”

Steve’s known since - since a long time that Bucky had stopped going to Church because he wasn’t too sure about it anymore and hadn’t _felt_ it at any point, or so he had confessed to him once when they were sixteen or so, not looking at him in the face as he did. Steve had just shrugged and told him that he couldn’t _force_ him to and even if he didn’t get it, he wasn’t going to stop being his friend for _that_. So - Bucky doesn’t usually do it, unless he _has_ to. And now —

“Steve, for — _yeah_ , for real, it’s _your_ birthday, you should be doing something you _like_ and if this godforsaken city doesn’t have anything better and if you want to go I can go with you. Right, I’d probably wait outside, but that’s not the point.”

Steve feels his cheeks get warm in the chill air — it might be July, but it’s certainly not _hot_ nor warm. “Bucky, honest, just knowing you _would_ is enough. It’s fine. I don’t need —”

“ _Bullshit_ , Steve. Hell, given how many birthday parties you skipped on since _forever_ , at least do - do _something_ you like this time.”

“Yeah, and with whose money would I throw birthday parties?”

“My point exactly, punk.”

Bucky moves closer, his bottle slightly touching his.

“Come on, don’t be an idiot. Tomorrow we’re doing _something_ , and it’s going to be my very shitty birthday present given that I ain’t got anything here.”

“I think it’s enough of a present that you aren’t _dead_ ,” Steve says quietly, clinking his bottle against Bucky’s before taking another drink.

“Yeah, well, you kind of would deserve a proper celebration and all. Especially now that you know you’ll be alive next year.”

Steve almost spits his drink as he laughs.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he blurts, and moves slightly closer — “You don’t know how much —”

“Steve, I think I fucking do,” Bucky interrupts him, putting his bottle on the balcony and looking straight up at him. “Fuck, it’s so — I’ll never get used to you being taller than me,” he laughs, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

“Believe me, I’m not used to that either,” Steve mumbles, and a moment later Bucky’s hand is on the side of his neck and —

“Well, happy birthday, punk,” Bucky says, and then his mouth presses against Steve’s for one moment, a single blissful moment, before he immediately leans back.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was —” He starts, panicked, and —

 _No_.

Steve puts his bottle next to Bucky’s, reaches for his arm and drags him in and slams their mouths together before he can think about it twice — he’s been wanting it for _years_ , and he’s never let himself even _think_ about it, or at least he’s _tried_ but it never went away, and he might have wondered for years about whether it was _wrong_ or not but it’s never felt as such, and he’s always known that. Loving Bucky could never feel wrong, and he made peace with _that_ and with the fact that it could never be returned either, he knew, but now it seems like Steve was wrong and he can’t really waste time making Bucky assume he doesn’t want him because he always, _always_ will, and —

“Don’t ever,” Steve whispers, “feel sorry for _that_ , ‘cause I’ve been wantin’ you to for _years_ ,” he whispers, his free hand cradling Bucky’s neck, and he’s delighted when Bucky’s frown turns into a smile, a genuine one, the same way it used to be _before_ they ended up shipped across the Atlantic and they both got strapped to a table and experimented on, except that Stave got way, way luckier.

“Right,” Bucky says, “so maybe _this_ can be my birthday present to _you_ before I find you a nicer one, how about _that_?”

“I’d say,” Steve answers, “that I’m down with that. But you still should bring me to church tomorrow.”

“Pal, I’d bring you _anywhere_ right now,” Bucky grins, and they move inside the room as they kiss again — doing it in public once was risky enough — and Steve decides that _this_ is definitely the best birthday he’s ever had.

By far.

Hopefully, next year the war will be over and they’ll be back in the States and they’ll be able to do it properly, though, and how sweet would that be?

 

_June 20th, 2017_

 

The good news is: he’s not _dead_ (or trapped inside the Soul Stone, however you want to take it) anymore, Thanos is _gone_ , Earth is safe, everyone else came back to life with him and Steve’s managed to _not_ die in the process himself, which is all great.

The bad news is: they’re stuck in Wakanda, _all of them_ , for the foreseeable future because of course their government is not cooperating — Bucky is _forever_ going to regret enlisting, honestly — and asked for him and Steve to be extradited back to the States for _trial_ , and they also want the Asgardians for that reason because _an entire alien population_ being on Earth _of course_ has to pass through the US government. Of course, T’Challa has replied with a sound _no_ to all those requests, but of course it means that everyone else who fought Thanos with them is automatically some kind of accomplice, which is why no one can go back to the States — yet — and why Steve’s been dealing with diplomacy issues and rebuilding and shit since they won, and —

Listen, Bucky had _plans_ for their _first_ anniversary — and coincidentally, Steve’s birthday — in fucking ’44. Now it’s — it’s fucking _2017_ and the aforementioned anniversary _and_ birthday are coming up and — is it their _first_ , since they never got to actually celebrate it? Is it they’re _seventy-third_? Is it Steve’s 100th birthday or his thirty-fourth?

Good grief. He doesn’t even know anymore. Anyway, his plans were — if the war was over — dragging Steve to Coney Island so he could finally enjoy himself there without throwing up and do every possible sappy shit they could get away in public. If it wasn’t over — fine, he had _no_ specific plans, but he’d have come up with something.

Yeah, _as if_.

And he also _had_ made plans before Thanos. He would have asked T’Challa to contact Steve so he could be in Wakanda for that day, if he wasn’t doing some underground op. Then he’d drag Steve to his hut, which might be small and spartan but it’s _his_ and he likes it, thank you very much, and it’s also calm and _nice_ and he has all the tech he needs to entertain himself, and —

Yeah, _as if_.

As it is, it’s going to be a miracle if he manages to snag the man for lunch, _maybe_.

And he doesn’t like to be in the spotlight that much, all things considered, so he’s _not_ hanging around the royal palace while Steve and T’Challa try to deal with the US government. He’s outside going through the rubble and helping people around and doing what he can, and he most probably radiates negativity because no one talks to him except a few daring people, these days.

“Are you still sure you won’t sell me that arm?”

Right. The raccoon’s definitely _daring_.

“No,” Bucky groans. “Don’t you have reconnecting to do with your alien friends?”

“Isn’t he angry,” Rocket says, coming up to his side as Bucky shovels dirt away. “We’ve reconnected, thank you very much. And I was taking a walk with my new pal Thor here, and we noticed that you were being absolutely insufferable, so —”

“Bucky,” Thor interrupts Rocket, moving to his side, and where the hell did he even come from? Bucky hadn’t even heard them, and Thor isn’t _subtle_. Especially these days — after his brother and his friends came back, too, he’s been _especially_ loud. Which is not a bad look on him. And admittedly, the Asgardian mead he offered them was _absolutely_ worth it, so Bucky huffs and tries to not be _that_ negative.

“Yeah?”

“It is obvious that something’s ailing you. Can we help?”

“I doubt that,” Bucky shrugs. “But thanks for asking. It’s nothing you can help.”

Thor shakes his head. “The Captain’s worried about you,” he says, softly.

“Wait, _what_?”

“He knows he’s busy and he dislikes it highly, and he _did_ notice you seemed to be withdrawn, and he’s worrying that it’s a side-effect from Thanos’s —”

“No, I’m fine. Really,” Bucky says, raising his hands. Neither of them looks too convinced.

“Bucky,” Thor says again. “Really. We will all be here for the foreseeable future. Just share it with us. At worst, maybe we can find someone else who can help.”

“What he said,” Rocket shrugs. “I’m turning too soft.”

Bucky stares at them and considers telling them to fuck off, but — they obviously have good intentions and it’d be really rude to, and that’s not how he was raised to be. And he would really like to at lest get back some of _that_.

“It’s just — you know that Steve and I, uh —”

“If you mean you’re more gone on each other than Quill and Gamora are, don’t dance around it. You’re obvious. And when you were _dead_ it was even more obvious,” Rocket interrupts.

Well then.

“Right. So, Steve’s birthday is in a few days. And — we got together — in 1944. On _that_ day, I mean. But — well. I died — _didn’t die_ , whatever — six months later or so, and since then — either I was on cryo or on the run or he didn’t know I was alive and I didn’t even remember him, so — I was thinking _this_ year was going to be the one where we got to do something nice for both things. But do you see _that_ happening?”

“Wait,” Rocket says, “are you saying that your _first_ anniversary was what, seventy years ago but you actually never —”

“ _Yes_ , that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Wow, that’s fucking sad,” Rocket proclaims.

Thor, instead, just _stares_ at him as if he’s processing the whole thing, and then he shakes his head.

“It _is_ sad,” he says, and wait, is that his _kingly_ tone or something, “but I think that you are wrong in assuming we can’t do anything about it.”

“Wait, _what_?” Rocket asks. “We _can_?”

“Of course we can!” Thor exclaims, and wait, now he’s _enthusiastic_? “I can believe you were being all _dark and gloomy_ about it —”

“Did Stark come up with that?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Never mind. Go ahead.”

“— Indeed, it’s a serious travesty. And you two have certainly had misfortune in your way for the best part of your life. Rocket, do you think you will need that ship we used to go to Nidavellir?”

“Right _now_? I won’t,” Rocket says. “Wait, are you thinking of _—_ oh. _Oh_ , I get it.”

“Wait, _what_?”

Thor’s grin is blinding as he claps Bucky’s left shoulder, strongly enough that Bucky feels that _completely_ — the vibranium arm has excellent sensors so he _feels_ things but usually not _that_ much, especially since he came back from the dead and it’s sort of malfunctioned in that sense but Shuri couldn’t look at it yet, so if he felt it _all_ , Thor really must have not been keeping his strength in check. Anyway: that was _hard_. “Do not despair, my friend. Give us three days and we will have solved it for you.”

“You _will_ have solved that?”

Thor _winks_. “Of course I will. Come, sweet rabbit, we need to _plan_.”

“I’m not — never mind. And I will get your arm, one day!” Rocket says, going with Thor back towards the palace.

 _What in the fresh Hell was that_?

Bucky doesn’t know, but — well, let them entertain themselves. If they really can get Steve to say fuck you to his duties and spend the day with him, more power to them. Meanwhile, he’ll go back to shoveling.

——

And then, on June 22nd, Thor about bursts through his door just as he’s getting dressed for the day.

“Bucky, my friend,” he greets him, with a smile so wide it almost scares the shit out of Bucky. Almost, because he’s known Thor long enough he knows it’s actually _natural_ with him. “I believe we have everything set. I would pack a few changes of clothes if I were you.”

“Wait, _pack_? But we can’t leave, we’re —”

“Just do it and come with me.”

Fine enough — Bucky does, it’s not as if he has that many clothes with anyway, and he packs the uniform and a weapon just in case, and joins Thor outside the door. The man _does_ cut a striking figure in the Wakandan garb T’Challa lent him, Bucky has to admit.

“Great! Do come with,” he says, and Bucky follows him outside the city and towards a small clearing nearby, where — where Steve’s standing with a bag slung over his shoulder, the tree — Groot — perched nearby and muttering _I am Groot_ all over, while Rocket stands in front of a small spaceship along with the other two guardians — right, Drax and Mantis. Quill and Gamora are probably holed up in their room, they haven’t been out for one week.

“What’s this even?” Bucky asks.

“Right,” Steve echoes. “I don’t understand Groot enough to —”

“See,” Thor says, clapping Steve on the shoulder, still hard enough that Steve almost flinches, “Barnes here informed us that the two of you have been together for more than seventy years but never got to actually celebrate it, did you?”

“We — we didn’t,” Steve admits, sounding pained as he sends Bucky an apologetical look.

“And I recalled that you _never_ used to celebrate your birthday while we were with the Avengers,” Thor tells him, solemnly. “I can imagine why.”

“Well, it’s also — the _fourth of July_ and everyone else does it plenty. But — what does _this_ mean?”

“ _This_ ,” Rocket says, nodding towards the ship, “is _my_ personal ship. Which I am lending to you under _exceptional_ circumstances.”

“Wait, you’re _lending_ us a ship? I can’t pilot —”

“Do not worry,” Thor grins, “Steve learned during the fight with Thanos and it’s not _that_ different from your planes. He can manage landing and taking off. For the rest, we have discussed plenty and then programmed an automatic route for you.”

“ _Automatic_?” Steve repeats.

“Indeed. We have gone over a list of _absolutely_ lovely planets you two would love to visit and that would be ideal for, how do Midgardians call it —”

“Honeymoon,” Rocket huffs. “I’ve heard enough Terran music from Quill to know _that_.”

“Right. They would be the _perfect_ honeymoon journey. Considering that we have programmed the ship to sail through all the _right_ Bifrost nodes, and that Heimdall agreed to keep an eye on you, you will have about one month for yourselves and maybe you won’t be _here_ , but you won’t be on Earth either, and what does the United States government know about that?” Thor winks.

“Really, guys,” Rocket says, “we went through the entire list and Drax here also chimed in —”

“You will _love_ Exitar!” Drax says proudly.

“— And really, it’s… badass, as Quill would put it. You just have to take off and then you’re gone. And of course, you’re in contact with us directly should anything happen. Oh, and if you put this earpiece in, you will hear every language automatically translated into English and people will understand you when you speak.” Rocket says, while Thor hands them both said airpieces.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Bucky _almost_ wants to go hug the damned raccoon, if he was the kind, and if he wasn’t sure he’d come out of it without the arm.

“I —” He starts. “Guys, I wasn’t expecting —”

“‘Course you weren’t,” Rocket says, “what were you supposed to do? So, you’re getting in or not? We got everyone to agree about lettin’ you two off the hook, don’t worry.”

“Just —” Steve says, “the government said they wanted _me_ to deal with them. And if I don’t do it half of this negotiation is compromised. Not that I want to even do it, but —”

Thor claps him on his shoulder again. “Do not worry, Loki has agreed to handle that.”

“… Loki…?”

“He impersonated you once, on Asgard. He is quite good at it, when he wants to. And — I assure you, he’s not out to hurt us this time.”

“I _saw_ that,” Steve says softly, and is he thinking of the way Thor clung to him when he came back to life just after Bucky did? Probably. “Well, you know what, you’re all right and I’ve had enough of the government for most of my life. Bucky, shall we —”

“Steve, it’s a damn _trip to space_ , of course we _shall_. Guys, I — _thank you_ , I can’t begin —”

“Just have fun for us, won’t you?” Thor grins again as the others usher them into the ship. “Have a great honeymoon and keep us updated!”

Groot slams the door behind them and for a moment Bucky doesn’t even know what the hell he should even do, but Steve drops his bag on the ground and goes to the pilot’s seat, motioning for him to take the nearby one. “Right,” he says, “I guess — it shouldn’t be too hard.” He presses a few buttons and a moment later the ship comes to life, taking off, and a moment later they’re shooting straight towards the sky and Wakanda and Earth are _behind them_ , and by the time Steve lets the automatic pilot take control and the speed has adjusted, Bucky isn’t sure he’s dreamed all of this.

“Wow,” he says, looking at the stars just outside the window. “I can’t — Steve, we’re in _space_ ,” he says, unable to contain his excitement.

If only he had known that when he spent his teenage years reading scifi books and attending Stark Expo.

“I know, right?” Steve grins back, even if his expression falls a moment later. “And — I just realized, these last few weeks we’ve only seen each other so little when everything I wanted was —”

“Steve?” Bucky interrupts him. “Honestly, I _know_. And — fuck _that._ We’re in space. I don’t want to know anything about politics or negotiations and whatnot. We’ve got a _month_. I think we should just enjoy it, shouldn’t we?”

“You know what,” Steve grins, “I think you’re right.”

A moment later, he’s moved from his seat to Bucky’s, both legs around Bucky’s, leaning down to kiss him, hands on his face and tongue moving against his and putting all his might into it, and Bucky groans into the kiss as he grasps back at Steve’s shoulders.

Oh, _yes_.

He’s going to enjoy his _honeymoon_ fully, thank you very fucking much.

——

“So,” Steve says, “they left us a list. Of planets, I mean.”

“Did they?” Bucky asks, coming back from the fresher - he _did_ need a wash.

“Yeah, it was hidden in my bag. _Shit_ , that’s a lot of planets. And they left - notes?”

“Well, shoot. Where are they sending us?”

“Uh, the first four are apparently Jupiter’s moons. _Don’t try to walk out of the ship, you can’t breathe on them, but they’re a sight_ , plus a few exclamation marks — that’s Thor.”

Bucky wants to faint. _Jupiter’s moons._ That sounds — _cool_ in ways he can’t even begin to imagine.

“Right. Then?”

“Then — hm. _Exitar_. No clue where the hell it is, but Rocket’s opinion is that we need to go get drinks at the Boot of Jemiah…? Fine, guess we’ll try it. Then — Morag? _A bit cold, but absolutely lovely_ , or so Thor said. Fine enough. Aakon — _a bit dull, but you would like that_ , that was Rocket. Then — Hala? _You will love this_ , five exclamations marks.”

Bucky reaches over and takes the list. “Right. _Musphelheim_ — great fun? According to the both of them? _Praxius_ , apparently an… _astonishing_ sight? _Dervani_ , uh, _I am Groot_. Apparently Groot really did like this one. _Conjuction_ — this one is great _fun_ , too. And — _Paramatar_? This one has _three_ I-am-Groot _s_ next to it. Guess Groot thinks it’s a lot of fun, too?”

“Probably. Kitson? Why are they saying this one is _absolutely not to miss_ in caps?”

“Dunno. Guess we’ll see later. But for now, I think I’ve got something more interesting to think about,” Bucky says, grabbing the list and putting it on the side. He thinks he’s more interested in seeing if the only bed they have in the ship can hold the two of them.

——

“Oh, _wow_ ,” Steve says, eyes wide open, as their ship slowly but surely makes its way through Jupiter’s moons — it’s been a _lot_ of them yet, and fuck that, Bucky _remembers all the names_ that he could have learned from astronomy books in the thirties. _Fuck you, Hydra, you didn’t take that from me_ , he thinks, gleefully.

“Yeah, couldn’t have put that better,” he echoes, because how could he not? They’re flying in the middle of a _lot_ of moons, and they can see Jupiter in the distance, so large it that Bucky suddenly feels small in a way he _never_ has in his entire life, but not the _bad_ kind of.

“Hey,” Steve asks, “what was the name of the — yellow-orange one over there?”

“That’s Io,” Bucky replies at once. “The closest. It’s one of the four that Galileo discovered back in the day. Shit, look at that, seventy years of brainwashing and Hydra couldn’t delete _that_ ,” he laughs, because he has to, he _does_ , as he stares at the lovely golden-orange color of the rocky moon orbiting slowly in the distance.

“That’s because you’re a nerd,” Steve replies, but he’s grinning so hard, Bucky _has_ to grin back. “And good thing you do because sure as hell I _didn’t_. “What about the dark one with the - sparkly lightening all over it?”

“That’s Callisto,” Bucky huffs, “and it’s full of rocks and possibly water, which is why people would probably start _there_ if they wanted to colonize the entire damned place.”

“What, really?”

“Hey, I caught up on astronomy in Wakanda. Admittedly, it’s probably more likely that Europa over there would have some form of life over it, I mean, the smaller grey and red one, even if it’s water surface so I guess it looks weird —”

“Bucky, you can talk astronomy to me _whenever_ , you know that?”

“Oh, so do you want to get educated about Jupiter’s moons now?”

“ _Please_ , do _educate_ me, Sergeant Barnes.”

“ _Gladly_ , Captain Rogers. As soon as we pass near Ganymede you’re going to be in for the sight of your _life_ ,” Bucky grins back, or at least they both should be if the astronomy he caught up with wasn’t wrong.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes not long later, when their ship passes in front of the massive moon, the sunlight hitting the icy ground so that it looks a lovely tone of warm grey with lightening sparkles all over the surface. They’re _tiny_ in comparison to it, so tiny, and even tinier if they look at Jupiter just behind them. “Fuck, it’s gorgeous,” he says, his hand finding Bucky’s.

“It is,” Bucky says, threading their fingers together, metal and flesh alike, and for once it doesn’t feel any different than it is when he holds Steve’s left with his right. “Wow. If — if all the other planets they picked for us are like _this_ , we’re in for a damn sight, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Steve agrees, “we are. Gosh, is it stupid that I’m actually excited to see the rest?”

“Steve, it’s really _not_ , or I’d be even more of an idiot than you are.”

“Jerk,” Steve replies affectionately, and Bucky kind of wants to kiss him, but they can do _that_ and more pleasurable things later, after they’re away from here.

They _do_ have a full month in space at least, after all.

For once, they do have all the time in the world.

——

They contact Thor later to inform him that everything’s gone swimmingly for now, and Thor assures them that the next planet will be a _blast_. Steve tries to ask what is going on with the negotiations, but Thor says that no one should think about work on their _honeymoon_ , so he refuses to say anything beyond the fact that no one’s fucked them up yet. Fair enough.

“Should we inform them that we aren’t, like, _married_?” Bucky asks him after they closed the call.

“Maybe,” Steve grins, “but why? I mean, it’s cute that he assumed that. And I wish I could’ve, back in the day.”

Right. Fair enough. They _never_ could have. But — but this new century, it’s not the thirties, and fuck knows if Bucky wouldn’t marry him in a heartbeat, if he could.

“Hey, we _could_ , you know. When we get back,” Bucky tells him, his voice softening.

“And where? Back in the States? Where no one is going to leave either of us in peace? And outside — I guess it’s legal in a lot of places, but what if those negotiations don’t pull through? Legally, it wouldn’t matter.”

Right. That’s a point, but Steve’s getting _sad_ now and that wasn’t the fucking point of this exercise. “Hey, whatever, who needs a ring anyway? We might as well be, given that it’s our _seventy-third_ anniversary.”

“Fuck you,” Steve retorts, absolutely not meaning it, and what if he does _just_ that not long later, in the small bed the ship has?

Fuck, Bucky has a feeling that after having sex _in space_ , sex on Earth will never be quite as good, but never mind that. He’ll deal.

——

“Hey,” Steve asks him as the pilot blares to life, “where it is that we’re landing according to that list?”

Bucky checks it over again.

“Uhm, Paramatar. Apparently we should be getting supplies here. There’s like, a spaceport with food and stuff, it says we should land on track number six? _It’s always free_?”

“Fair enough,” Steve agrees, and lands. Bucky thinks about it a moment and then he puts on his uniform — not that he thinks it’s dangerous or anything, but allow him to be a bit paranoid after _everything_ he’s gone through, thank you.

“Bucky, _really_?”

“Just in case,” Bucky says, and packs a gun.

Just in case.

——

Turns out, _it’s a very damned good idea_.

——

An hour later, he’s throwing food in the corner while Steve immediately throws himself into the pilot seats and flies off and he thanks the stars he _did_ bring the damned gun.

Then he calls Earth.

“Uh, guys,” he asks as Thor takes the call, “is it normal that we went on Paramatar for supplies and some kinda bounty hunter wanted to arrest us because we were on Rocket’s ship?”

“Oh, right,” Thor grins, “he did say it might happen, but he thought you would find it as entertaining as he would. Didn’t you have fun?”

Bucky realizes that _his_ concept of fun is _way_ different from Thor’s, but before he can point that out Steve reaches over and takes the call from him. “Totally,” he says, “could’ve done that all day. Thanks for not boring us.”

“I _knew_ you’d have liked that. Rocket, they liked Paramatar!”

_Well then._

“Steve,” Bucky tells him after he closes the call, “ _why_ didn’t we tell them that we were about to get a heart attack?”

Steve grins sheepishly. “Well, you know — they put so much effort into it, and I’m sure they, uh, genuinely think it’s _fun_ to punch people, I guess. And the first place they sent us to _was_ nice. We can take care of ourselves anyway and in case we can just keep our head down. No need to tell them.”

“Fair,” Bucky agrees. “Fair. As long as they don’t go for it on Earth.”

“… Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it,” Steve nods fiercely.

Bucky decides it’s fair. And he hopes that _Praxius_ is more like the moons of Jupiter than — well. Than a spaceport full of bounty hunters.

——

They are lucky on that front: Praxius is large and imposing and covered in soft, white clouds that glow green and orange and baby azure in its sun’s light, and the ship is apparently programmed to have them flying around rather than land — it _does_ say, in Thor’s notes, that it’s nicer to look at than anything else and there’s nothing remarkable on the ground.

“Wow,” Steve says, breathless. “It’s larger than Jupiter.”

“Fuck, it _is_ ,” Bucky agrees, gaping at it, his arm moving around Steve’s shoulders. “Fuck. I feel like an ant. Probably smaller than one.”

“Maybe we should text Scott Lang about _that_ when we get back on Earth.”

“Hell, we should take pictures. We haven’t used up all the tablet’s memory on Jupiter, right?”

“No, and if we didn’t we could just — fuck, what did Tony say about clouds?”

“Upload it to _the_ Cloud, it’s like, putting pictures on the internet so that it frees space on the tablet. Hey, you’ve lived in the 21st century more than _I_ did.”

“ _You_ were the one into tech, not me,” Steve winks, and hands him the tablet. “Take the pictures, I’ll sketch it.”

“I like that plan,” Bucky smiles.

Fine.

 _This_ planet went very much right.

Hopefully, the following will be… _this_ kind of.

——

“Uhm,” Bucky says, stepping on the soft, _hot_ ground. “What’s this planet named, again?”

“Muspelheim,” Steve replies. “This is weird.”

“And _hot_ ,” Bucky adds, feeling very thankful that his boots are heavy, because the earth looks scorched. Good thing Steve put on the armor. “I have a feeling this is another _fun_ planet the way Thor thinks places are _fun_ , right?”

“Possibly — what the hell?”

“Oh sweet — _is that a fucking dragon_?”

Turns out, that’s a rhetorical question.

——

“There was _another_ dragon?” Thor asks excitedly. “I hadn’t realized, but I hope you both enjoyed slaying it, my friends!”

“I — I suppose it was _interesting_ ,” Steve replies, while Bucky tries to catch his breath. Jesus, his arm is intact even if the thing breathed fire on it. He really needs to tell T’Challa that his vibranium is the _best_.

 _Interesting_.

Yeah. That was a _word_ for it.

——

“What’s the next stop?” Bucky asks Steve as they descend towards the next planet, a few days later.

“Kitson. The one everyone said was _absolutely not to miss_ in caps,” Steve supplies, sounding slightly worried.

“I’m going in full armor,” Bucky declares.

“I’m doing _the exact same thing_ ,” Steve agrees at once.

“I see you did grow some self-preservation,” Bucky grins. With their luck, it’s going to be one of the nice, calm, _pretty_ planets, but… all of them agreeing on how this place was Absolutely Not To Miss suggests him the contrary.

A moment later, they get a message from Thor.

_I see that you landed on Kitson in time — splendid! Go to this address and say I sent you, you won’t regret it!! <3_

“… Since when is Thor using _emoticons_ ,” Steve says.

“He’s _your_ friend, not mine.”

“He _didn’t_ when he was on Earth.”

“I bet money that Shuri taught him.” Or at least, it sounds like the most plausible explanation. “Still, should we go?”

“Well, we can take care of ourselves. And after the _dragon_ , what could be worse?”

“Fair enough,” Bucky agrees. Steve _does_ have a point. He doubts anything can be worse than the dragon.

They land in the designated place, clear their permits — at least no one is after them _now_ — and head for the city.

——

“ _Oh_ ,” Steve says, blushing bright red.

“Well, fuck,” Bucky echoes, “now I get why _all_ of them were excited.”

The address they were given is — what looks like an alien red lights shop or _something_ of the kind, and since they’ve passed some _ten_ brothels up to this point Bucky has a feeling he knows why _everyone_ who signed that piece of paper said to not skip on this bloody planet.

“Do you think Thor said we would be coming?”

“ _You_ know him. Do you think he could have?”

“Knowing him? Yes.”

“… Then I guess we should go in. Well, at least no one’s gonna try to kill us,” Bucky says, feeling ridiculous in his full-on combat gear getup.

They walk in.

A moment later, someone springs to their feet from behind the counter — most probably whatever passes from a sales assistant in this part of the galaxy. They look like a human woman, if you don’t count the six arms and the bright pink skin and orange eyes, and Bucky’s about to introduce himself when —

“Oh, you must be King Thor’s Terran friends, aren’t you?” She chirps, looking _very_ excited.

“Uh, yes,” Steve says. “If Terran means from Earth. Uh, I’m Steve, he’s Bucky. Please to meet you —”

“Sareel. I’m Krylorian, but I suppose it would mean little to you. Anyway, King Thor has ordered a small gift for you.”

“A — gift?” Bucky stammers.

“Yes!” She claps her hands, very happily. “He called from Earth and said you would be here at some point and he wished for your honeymoon to be _a tad more exciting_ , if you get my drift, and this is the best shop on this planet, sorry if it sounds like I’m bragging.”

“I am sure it is,” Steve chokes.

“Great! I went and picked the best supplies just for you — Thor was _very_ considerate when he said what he thought you might like. Just you wait!”

She disappears behind a door for a moment, and then gives them what looks like a gift, except that it’s most definitely a _box_ wrapped in bright red that she dumps in Bucky’s arms without even looking at Steve — he figures it’s because of the arm.

“There you go. Everything’s already paid for, Thor saw to it. And since you’re on your _honeymoon_ ,” she winks, “I am _sure_ that you aren’t interested in visiting a couple establishments, though if you’re looking to spice things up I can —”

“Er, not — not really,” Steve says, “but thank you very much for offering. It’s just, we’re exclusive, you know?”

“Oh, _absolutely_ ,” she winks, again. “And you look _precious_ , if I might say. Well, do enjoy your purchases then, and let Thor know how you liked them because we do thrive on customer feedback.”

“Will — will _absolutely_ do,” Bucky agrees, and they’re out of the shop a moment later.

“Do we even wanna know what’s inside?” Steve asks.

“Steve, I doubt we can’t _not_ know that.”

“Fair. Let’s — uh. _Go to the ship_.”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely,” Bucky agrees, and they run back there before they can end up dragged into some — alien burlesque establishment.

He doesn’t even know how _that_ would go, but maybe it’s better that he doesn’t go there at all.

——

“Holy _shit_ ,” Bucky says, looking at the contents of the box that they threw down on the only bed in the small ship.

Steve doesn’t even bother to correct him. He’s just _gaping_ at the content.

The _ten_ different types of lube coming in large enough doses that they could go six months before they use it all up and the massaging oil scented like some kinda weird alien flower are hardly the point. Actually, Bucky’s pretty grateful for _that_. The point consists in the ten different types of what feels like silk rope in four different colors (black, red, blue and white, _seriously),_ a — a bright pink _thing_ with a remote coming with that most definitely looks like an anal plug except with some weird shape Bucky doesn’t want to identify, four different cock rings (or at least Bucky’s positive it’s what you should use them for), what looks like anal beads except in some weird alien material (seriously?) and handcuffs padded in what feels like _real_ fur but is most likely some extremely realistic synthetic material, or so the description on the box says.

“Uhm,” Steve says, “Thor is _really_ taking this seriously.”

“Do I want to know what kind of sex does Thor like to have?”

“I’m not asking him,” Steve says, shaking his head. He reaches out for handcuffs. “These do feel sturdy, though. Wait — shit, Bucky, that’s vibranium.”

At _that_ , Bucky’s interest is perked up. “Does that mean that neither of us could get out of it without a significant effort?”

Steve grins, even if he’s still blushing. “How about we check it out in _practice_?”

Bucky grins back, slowly but surely.

He’s definitely down with _that_.

——

The next morning, they text Thor that they’re _extremely grateful_ for the purchases. Then they shut off any communication for the next few hours.

——

“Uh, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Rocket sent a message. He said, uh, that if we’re going to Conjuction we might find _extra gear_. You’ve got any idea of what that might mean?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going in fucking full gear.”

——

Turns out, it was a good idea.

 _Again_.

“Steve,” Bucky shouts as he reloads while Steve takes care of punching the idiots running after them, “why _the Hell_ would a desert planet full of weapons scavengers in the middle of fucking nowhere be _fun_?”

“I guess because you get to shoot people?” Steve shouts back as he kicks one of the scavengers in the stomach and Bucky shoots the one coming up behind him.

“Well,” Bucky decides, grabbing the rifle of one of the guys who ran before, “at least they _do_ have extra gear.”

He loads again and shoots.

He sincerely hopes that the next one will be one of the quiet, _nice_ planets because it’s been too much excitement for the goddamned entire year, as far as he’s concerned.

——

The fact that the next planet — Dervani — looks very green as the ship slowly descends makes Bucky hope that this one is good for the scenery.

Then they walk out of the ship after landing in a small clearing and he suddenly realizes why Groot had been particularly enthusiast about _that_ one planet.

“Oh,” Steve says, looking at the _tall_ trees surrounding them, “this — this is _lovely_.”

It _is_ — the entire area is _green_ , with trees high five times the average they’re adjusted to, and they’re all wildly different, with leaves of various colors, and there are flowers all over the grass surrounding them. A few birds they don’t recognize fly around and chirp, and suddenly Steve’s grinning.

“Hey,” he asks, “wanna climb a tree?”

“ _What_?”

“We couldn’t really do that in a _city_ back in the day, right?”

“Yeah, unless you wanted to get arrested in Central Park,” Bucky smiles, unable to stop himself at the memory which is _thankfully_ crisp and clear and _still in his head_ , and fuck anyone else who ever tries to take it back from him. “Yeah, fine, let’s climb a damned tree. That one looks like it has sturdy enough branches.”

He’s _not_ looking forward to fall down and break something just because he was too heavy for it.

“Right. I’m sure I can get to the top faster than you,” Steve grins, and grabs at the tree’s trunk a moment later, disappearing upward.

“Punk, that’s _not fair_ ,” Bucky shouts after him, and proceeds to mimic him on the other side — thankfully the branches are _indeed_ very sturdy and he’s not allergic to whatever red and white flowers this one tree produces, and of course he’s behind Steve eventually because he had an advantage and Bucky wasn’t in a hurry anyway, but when he finally gets to the top —

“Fuck,” he breathes, looking at the _two_ suns on the horizon, coloring the sky over the entire expanse of green in soft pinks, yellows and violets as they set, “this — _wow_.”

“It’s a bit like Wakanda, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, thinking fondly of his hut in the forest in Wakanda, which was small and spartan but was also quiet and _nice_ and he didn’t have to share it with anyone else except that he _had_ wanted to share it with Steve, and they haven’t had enough time for it yet, “except for the two suns. Hey, you’ve got the tablet? You should totally send T’Challa a picture.”

“I do,” Steve rolls his eyes. He grabs it and snaps a picture, then puts it back in his jacket and then he grins, clinging tighter to his branch.

“Say, what if we have dinner outside tonight? And maybe do _something else_ outside, too?”

Bucky is honestly delighted by Steve’s ideas when it comes to _this_ planet, he thinks.

“I think I can’t wait to try the lube in the purple box,” he grins back.

No branches crack under their weight as he hurries down.

——

Later, they have dinner and try out the lube from the purple box, which is _very_ good, definitely higher quality than anything they ever used on Earth, after eating on the luscious, soft grass, like they never could when they were kids, and later, he’s feeling so sated and _happy_ about it that he doesn’t even complain when Steve starts braiding flowers into his hair.

“It’s unfair,” Bucky says, “that I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m not the one with long hair, jerk.”

“Wouldn’t look that bad on you, but it’s still unfair. Hey, you should make yourself a flower crown or somethin’ like that, _then_ we’d be even.”

Steve grins almost deviously. “And why would I _not_?”

——

They leave two days later. Both of them actually have a couple flower crowns at the end of it, that Steve put together with entirely too much skill for Bucky’s tastes, but he does look good in his blue one, and Bucky decides that _this_ planet is the best yet.

They send a message to Earth communicating just that. Groot replies with a lot of enthusiasm.

——

“I have a feeling,” Bucky says as they walk the streets of _Exitar_ , the last planet on their list, “that _this_ is the kind of place where Rocket and Thor would have a lot of fun and we wouldn’t.”

“Same,” Steve agrees, “but hey, we survived until now, we’ll manage. Where did he say we should go drink?”

“At the _Boot of Jemiah_ , or so it says here. Christ, this entire place looks sleazy, what is it even?”

“A mining colony, or so the ship log said.”

“A — never mind. Let’s have these drinks and be done with it. Oh, _crap_ ,” Bucky says, suddenly realizing something. He grabs the tablet and checks a thing quickly.

Damn, damn, _damn_.

“Well, drinks are on me,” he says. “It’s the least.”

“Wait, why?”

“Because according to Earth calculations, _today_ is July 4th and we completely are missing it.”

“… Oh,” Steve says, “right, fair enough, but I think we were having fun without even thinking about it.”

“Yes, but it’s the entire reason we’re here so — oh, there it is. Come on, I’m buying at least two rounds.”

“ _At least_?”

“Steve, neither of us can get drunk, we might as well indulge.”

“… You have a point,” Steve smiles, and fuck if Bucky doesn’t want to kiss that off his face, but maybe later. _Later_.

——

The bar is an absolute shithole — exactly the kind of place Bucky can see Rocker liking. He’s fairly sure anyone who’s not drinking is gambling, but he’s not here to _gamble_ , so he sits at the counter, Steve following him.

“Terrans?” The bartender asks him.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says.

“There aren’t many ‘round here.”

“Well, a friend sent us,” Bucky shrugs. “We’re on a mission.”

“I suppose so. Well, I’m known for discretion. What can I get you?”

“What do you have?” Bucky asks, wishing Thor and Rocket at least had left them _some_ advice when it came to picking their poison. Eventually, they settle on something that from the description sounds like Earth absinthe, which Bucky doesn’t remember ever having in his life, even if he doubts it’s the same.

They’re brought two glasses filled with bright purple liquid, which they pay with money that Rocket had left in an envelope _specifically_ marked for alcoholic consumption in _that_ bar.

“Right,” Bucky says, “let’s try it. To — to the _honeymoon_?” He asks, whispering the last two words.

“Sure thing, jerk,” Steve smiles, and drinks half of the thing in one go. Bucky does the same and —the taste isn’t unpleasant and it burns slightly, but he has a feeling _this_ won’t be what gets him drunk. Or even remotely buzzed.

“ _Woah_ ,” Steve says a moment later, his cheeks flushed. “This — this has a damn kick.”

“Wait, _you_ feel it?”

“You don’t?”

Bucky shrugs. “Not any different than the last time I drank whiskey.”

“I’m — fuck, I think I’m feeling it,” Steve grins, and he looks overjoyed at the prospect that there’s _something_ in the universe that he can drink and will actually affect him. Bucky’s not going to make fun of him for it, he knows that Steve hates not feeling _normal_ and alcohol not affecting him doesn’t usually help, as much as he pretends it doesn’t matter. “You think we have enough money for another round?”

Bucky glances at how many credits he has left, then grins. “Steve, I think I’ve got money for _ten_ rounds.”

Steve grins so wide it almost hurts. “Then since it’s been some _eighty_ years since I got drunk last on my birthday, I think I deserve at least another couple.”

“Sure,” Bucky smiles back, and orders another three rounds that he figures will all go to Steve, since he’s still halfway through his own glass and he doesn’t think he likes whatever this is enough to get some more.

——

By the third round, Steve is downright tipsy, and Bucky’s barely finished his drink but it’s fine enough because he hasn’t seen Steve this _carefree_ since — since the war? Before then? Was he ever _carefree_ since he spent half of the time sick and not being able to do what most kids could back in the day?

Bucky has a feeling the answer is _no_ , regardless of how much he might or might not remember.

Which is why he buys him a fourth round.

“Shit,” Steve says, swallowing his space absinthe or whatever the fuck it is, “ _shit_ , I had forgotten how it felt.”

“You’re enjoying yourself, I gather?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s _great_. Oh my God, it’s — it’s my birthday and we’re in _space_ and it’s our damned _anniversary_ and I can get drunk and I don’t have to worry about anything and — I _love_ this,” Steve grins, moving closer and about slamming his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. Right, his coordination is definitely shot to hell and back, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “I love this and _I love you_ and this is the _best_ —” He moves closer, and now they’re pretty much glued to the hip, not that Bucky minds, “and it fucking beats walking through London tryin’ to find some museum.”

Bucky laughs, remembering that first fourth of July — he _did_ drag Steve to St. Paul’s for mass and then they searched the entire area because he was set on the museum thing, and then they had to give up and ended up walking in Trafalgar Square, looking at the bombed National Gallery and feeling like he failed everything if he wanted to _celebrate_.

“Sure as hell it does,” he says, moving a hand to Steve’s neck, suddenly forgetting that they’re in some seedy bar in a planet they don’t _know_ , “and I love you, too.” He lowers his voice. “Happy birthday. And happy anniversary, _darling_ ,” he quips, and then Steve’s leaning in and kissing him and —

“And what are you two doing now?”

Ah, fuck. He turns and sees that the entire gambling part of the customers is looking at them, and _none_ of them look like they appreciated the show.

“Can’t a guy kiss his partner?” Steve says, of course he does, because he’s _drunk_ and he’s not _thinking_ —

“Terrans,” one of the aliens says — are those _tentacles_ in place of his arms or what —, “no one wants to see _that.”_

The hell —

“Come on,” Bucky says before Steve can get into a fight, “he’s drunk and we didn’t mean anything bad by it. We’ll just go now, how about it?”

“I think not,” tentacle-alien says taking a step forward, and —

“What d’you think you’re doing,” Steve almost shouts, and _fuck_ , Bucky didn’t bring any guns, if this goes badly —

Tentacle-alien throws the first punch.

Steve punches back.

 _Fuck_.

——

Two minutes later, there’s broken tables and glasses everywhere, the entire bar has turned into a brawl and he and Steve have held their own but they’re _way_ far from the main door. Fuck, fuck, fuck —

“Steve!” Bucky shouts, kicking an alien with _more_ tentacles in the chest before he can use them to strangle him, “maybe we should try to run.”

“Maybe,” Steve concedes, “but I don’t think there’s much of an opening!”

He punches another alien who looks more like a mantis than a human.

 _Fuck_.

He doesn’t want to fucking die in a seedy bar in _space_ , nor to end up arrested by whichever police is around here — maybe he should just punch to kill, but that’s not what he wants to do especially when he’s sworn off killing if not absolutely necessary —

“But look at this party,” someone says stepping into the bar, and a moment later he hears someone shouting and _more people_ are running into the bar and there’s _more_ punching and then a guy shorter and looking older than Bucky does but _definitely_ burly and enough weapons on him to furnish half a platoon puts himself next to him, thrusting an automatic rifle in his arms. The man _definitely_ looks like his nose took more than a few beatings.

“Bucky Barnes?” He asks gleefully as he plunges a knife into some alien’s arm without even looking. Bucky hoists the gun.

“Yeah,” he says, “and who are you and how do you know who I am?”

“Stakar Ogord,” the guy says, “I’m a Ravager. Also, I’m a friend of a friend.”

“Who, Rocket’s?”

“And Quill's, but yeah. How did you guess?” Stakar replies as he kicks someone in the crotch.

“You seem like the kinda guy he’d be friends with.”

“Well, he sent me and the other guys here because he said you two might run into trouble in this place and thank fuck he did, we were starting to get bored.”

“Bored?!”

“Since you killed Thanos everyone’s licking their wounds an’ such and there’s not much crime to pursue. The blonde guy’s Steve?”

“Yeah.”

“Charlie, the blonde guy’s the other Terran, don’t hit him!”

“Got it, boss!”

Bucky doesn’t know who _Charlie_ is, but he’s mighty happy that whoever these Ravagers are they showed up _now_.

A moment later, Steve’s showed up next to him.

“Captain Ogord, I presume?” He asks, very casually kicking some other alien.

“Don’t be so formal, Rocket’s friends are my friends.”

“Do you have a plan to get out of here?”

Stakar glances at the door and at — presumably — his pals.

“Yeah, well, I’ll just have to break this place in two,” he grins, and lifts what looks like a large, _large_ blaster from his back.

——

Turns out, he meant that _literally_.

Bucky runs, holding on to Steve’s arm, leaving a door _perfectly broken in two parts_ and a bunch of screaming wounded aliens behind them.

“Thank you!” Steve screams as they run towards the ship. “Your help’s been —”

“Kid, don’t sweat it. As I told your guy, we were bored.” He shoots someone who was running after them. “Rocket tells me you’re on your honeymoon?”

“Uh,” Bucky says, “it’s our anniversary, technically. We haven’t had time to get married, in between every fucking thing that happened.”

“Honeymoon, anniversary, whatever.”

“Captain,” the guy that Bucky thinks is Charlie screams as he runs along with them, “you know you _could_ do that for ‘em, right?”

“ _What_?” Steve shouts.

“Oh, right. Well, I _am_ a captain, after all. I officiated a few Ravager marriages. More than a few, actually. Got no problem doing that for you, if you want it.”

 _What the_ —

“Sounds great!” Steve shouts, and then he stops abruptly along with everyone else, tugging on Bucky’s arm while three of the other Ravagers take care of the few assholes still following them.

“Hey,” he says, “hey, will you marry me?”

“Steve, what the — of course I’ll marry you, but —”

“Where’s your ship?” Steve asks Stakar at once.

Stakar grins. “That way. Do follow, gentlemen.”

Bucky’s not even going to try and make sense of this entire day.

He runs to the Ravager ship instead.

——

Turns out, the thing is _huge_ and they actually took on board their own smaller ship, which means they don’t have to go back for it.

Good thing that.

Turns out, Ravager marriage ceremonies are fairly straightforward. They’re brought to what looks like a large common room full of weapons and maps and the likes, Stakar’s wife and Charlie volunteer to be witnesses, they’re given a couple heavy leather coats with what Bucky supposes is the Ravager sigil or _something_ on it because _all of Rocket’s and Quill’s friends are honorary Ravagers and we might as well do this properly,_ and he has to admit that stuff looks _badass_. Then Stakar moves in front of them, clears his throat.

“Steve Rogers.”

“Sir.”

“Call me Stakar, fuck’s sake. I ain’t anywhere old enough for _that_. Bucky Barnes.”

“Yeah, uh, that’d be me.”

“From what I’m told, you two waited some seventy-three years to get hitched and were separated for most of ‘em and I’m sure you don’t wanna waste too much time, and good thing for you we ain’t much for protocol. So. Steve, do you want to marry him?”

“Of course,” Steve replies eagerly, and he still sounds maybe a bit drunk, but he means it, he obviously does, and Bucky feels like his heart’s swollen three times its usual size.

Which is not news, considering that he’s _always_ done that around Steve.

“Good. Bucky, do you want to marry him?”

“Been wanting to since fucking ’37 or so,” he says.

“Wait, which year it is on Earth?”

“2017,” Bucky supplies.

“Well, _shit_ ,” Stakar says, not so helpfully. “Good thing I asked Rocket for how you do things on Earth.”

“What —”

Aleta — _his_ witness — slams a white gold ring in his hand while Charlie does the same with Steve.

“We found you rings that should fit you. Go the fuck ahead.”

Bucky swallows and slips the ring on Steve’s finger, and a moment later Steve slips a silver one with what looks like a small sapphire encased inside on the same one on his right hand — right, he’d probably lose it on the metal arm.

“Great.”

A moment later, Stakar claps the two of them on the shoulders so hard that Bucky almost yelps — for not being enhanced, the guy sure as hell has a lot of raw strength to him.

“Congratulations, you’re married. And if you don’t at least kiss each other properly I’ll tell Rocket he’s befriending prudes.”

“We wouldn’t want _that_ now, would we?” Bucky grins.

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Steve smiles back, and a moment later his mouth is on Bucky’s and they’re kissing hard and open-mouthed and without even trying to be appropriate, not that he thinks the audience minds, and everyone else is clapping and Bucky decides that screw marrying on Earth, nothing beats _marrying Steve in space_.

Shit, what a fucking _glorious_ day, he thinks, and moans into Steve’s mouth as Steve’s arms wrap around his waist.

——

By the time they say goodbye and thank everyone else profusely and go back to their ship, Bucky’s convinced that this day cannot possibly get any better, regardless of the bar brawl.

“Wow,” he says, “I even put a ring on that.”

“Technically, _they_ put a ring on us.”

“ _Technicalities_ , Steve. You still drunk?”

“Nah, I sobered up, thanks very much. And I’m sore all over, but it was fucking worth it. We should probably warn the others on Earth, though.”

“Yeah, maybe in a moment. Wait, is someone calling?”

Given that the screen from which they get messages and calls is beeping, _most likely_.

Steve takes the message.

“Guys,” Rocket says, “congratulations and all, Stakar just warned us. Don’t bother callin’, you can do that tomorrow. That said, I told Stakar you might appreciate a certain thing they’re really good at, and I don’t mean stealing stuff. You can thank me later.”

The line goes dead.

“What the hell?” Bucky asks.

“No idea,” Steve replies, looking puzzled. “Maybe we should call the other ship and — _oh_.”

“What are you _oh_ -ing at — _well, shit_ ,” Bucky whistles as he looks outside the window of their ship.

The open sky in front of them is now filled with smaller Ravager ships other than Stakar’s, and —

And all of them are shooting fireworks.

Their filed of vision is utterly filled with them — most are red, but some are gold, some dark pink, some green, and there isn’t a piece of sky that’s free from the continuous explosions.

But most important of all, _they can’t hear them_.

Bucky used to love the fireworks on July 4th, and same for Steve — they used to pretend they were for _him_ until they were too old to do otherwise — but since, well, _since_ , he does badly with loud noises that are way too similar to gunshots if he doesn’t know they’re gonna happen, and Steve’s told him it’s the same for him, but then again…

No sound in space, right?

He glances at Steve. His eyes are wet and _shit_ , Bucky’s own are too. His vision’s getting damn blurry.

He reaches out with his right hand and finds Steve’s left, and their rings clash as they clasp at each other.

“It’s — it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Steve breathes, standing up and moving next to him, pressing up close.

Bucky lets his head fall on Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he agrees. _Not as much as you_ , he doesn’t say, but they’ve had enough sap for one day. “Well, if this was supposed to be our _first_ anniversary, we’re never gonna top _this_.”

“But,” Steve grins, still looking at the fireworks, “technically, we only married _now_. So _next year_ should be our first.”

“Oh, I think I like how you’re approaching this. Fine, the first is next year. At least we straightened _that_ out. Also, let’s wear these coats on Earth, too, because they’re fucking _great_.”

“They’re — Sam would say badass, I think.”

“What, you wanna get him one?”

“Maybe, but I think I have better plans for now. I mean, after this is all done, I think I want to try those cuffs out once more,” Steve says, sounding elated, and Bucky feels the same as he agrees and presses up closer to him, watching the fireworks the way he never could on Earth and feeling the ring on Steve’s finger pressing against his.

Yeah, he decides, best anniversary _ever_.

And next year, even if their first is not as epic as _this_ one, it won’t matter. At least it’ll happen properly. For now, he’s more than ready to enjoy the rest of their _proper_ honeymoon, and from the way Steve leans into him and watches raptly out of the window while he grins wide enough to make up for all the misery of these last few years, he knows Steve thinks the exact same.

Good.

They still have a _lot_ of time before they go back to Earth, after all.

 

 

End.


End file.
